


It's Going to Be an Eggs-traordinary Day

by makingtriangles (electricbloo)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Eggs, F/M, Humor, Incubation, Stuffing, Vomiting, kinkfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-24
Updated: 2012-04-24
Packaged: 2017-11-04 05:30:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/390294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/electricbloo/pseuds/makingtriangles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vriska has deposited her eggs inside John, and now they're ready to hatch.</p><p>You probably shouldn't read this. :]</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Going to Be an Eggs-traordinary Day

**Author's Note:**

> Oh my god nobody should read this, hahaha.
> 
> To make a long story short, I had a long conversation with dogtier in the comments of [Manbro Bukkake Theater](http://archiveofourown.org/works/388878) that started out as a discussion about the fact that none of the boys would be circumcised and ended with the discussion of Vriska laying eggs inside John.
> 
> So, I wrote this.
> 
> I deeply apologize.

Having an alien for a partner was...

Um.

When John was a kid, one day during summer break he'd been down in the garage when a rustling, scrabbling sound had started up from a stack of boxes in the corner. At first he'd been afraid to go near it, but his mind started flipping through all the possibilities of animals it could be -- a mouse, a rat, a squirrel, for god's sake, a kitten...the thought that it could be a baby animal of any kind, starving to death while trapped in a box was what caused his legs to move and his hands to reach out and flip the box over.

It had been a _bat_ , and it had flailed a bit on the floor before pulling itself along with astonishing speed by its little leathery wing-claws back into the shadows of the corner.

That had been NOT AT ALL what John had been expecting, and the sheer unexpectedness of it caused him to let out the most undignified little squeal and run like hell back up the stairs.

So, to be honest, John wasn't even sure how to finish that first sentence. The whole situation is, really, one huge bat in a box. He's been a marvelously good sport about all of it, and he always wanted to be a dad, really and truly. He loves kids. He and Vriska had talked about it a lot, and even after learning the...particulars...of the type of reproduction he would potentially be participating in, Vriska somehow made it sound...like not really that big of a deal?

"Females of your species go through waaaaaaaay worse than that! You're just as good as they are. You're strong! The strongest!" She crossed her arms, looking at him with that strange, proud gleam in her eye that somehow always managed to turn his legs to jelly. "You're the only one _worthy_ enough to bear my eggs!"

Then she'd grabbed John by the front of his shirt and hauled him up and kissed him like crazy and thus began the chain of events leading up to John now lying listlessly on the couch.

He's drifting in and out of sleep to the Ed Wood movies he decided to marathon, his t-shirt riding up over the soft curve of his stomach; over the past week he's gotten strangely used to the dull ache of the clutch of eggs expanding inside him. Vriska doesn't mind taking care of him. She brings him food and...protein shakes, which she says are for the eggs. Apparently it usually would be raw meat but she's an understanding troll and willing to make compromises for the sake of multispeciesism! John doesn't have very much of an appetite anymore, since his stomach constantly feels full, but he swallows the food down anyway, for her. When he's done, feeling even more full and a little sick, she'll run her hands all over his oversensitive stomach, cooing and talking about all the things they're going to do with the grubs and John will blush and think it's pretty much the sweetest thing ever in the whole world.

He rolls over onto his back, groaning a little as the movement causes a sharp ache to build in his stomach. He clasps his hands over it, gritting his teeth, and after a moment the pain subsides. Lying on his back usually feels the best, for some reason.

About three months ago, they'd decided for sure to do it. John had been doing the dishes, and with the clink of the last plate into the dishwasher Vriska's voice had come floating out of the bedroom. "Joooooooohn..."

He'd dried his hands clumsily on a dishtowel and practically stumbled over himself to get in there. She only used that tone of voice when she wanted one thing...and...

She'd already ditched all her clothes and was spread out on the bed, legs open a little, bulge already curling up out of her body. She had one arm up behind her head, the other hand in between her legs, thumb and forefinger rubbing at the base of her bulge. John stripped off his shirt, struggling with his belt and nearly tripping over his own pants in an effort to get them off.

"I need you to release your genetic material inside my nook," she'd purred after John had practically dived on top of her. John had nodded, his expression determined. So this was it, then.

He was ready.

They'd fucked for a while, Vriska riding him, John massaging her bulge in both hands, until John had come, panting and tossing his head on the pillow. She'd pulled herself off him, crouching for a few minutes over his chest, her eyes squinched shut in intense concentration. Then she'd crawled up him, kneeling at the headboard, straddling his face. John had let out a soft moan and lapped at her nook, and she'd shuddered in pleasure.

"I need you to swallow it all," she'd said, with that fierce, proud look on her face, and John somehow managed to do what she ordered, swallow the sudden wash of fluid from her nook that felt...lumpy...on its way down...

It's kind of making him nauseous to think about, but, well. Almost everything has been making him nauseous, lately. John passes a hand over his face. The baby...grub shower is tonight, too, and John doesn't even know whether he's even going to be able to sit up for that. He suspects the eggs are absorbing the vast bulk of the nutrients from his food, not the other way around, as he'd been informed would be so. He feels dizzy and unfocused and maybe it's different in trolls but his human body isn't really standing up to this very elegantly.

His phone buzzes in his pocket. It's Jane.

GG: I know you dislike cake but would cupcakes be an adequate substitute?  
GG: So sorry this is as last-minute as it is, but I've had my hands full with Roxy.  
EB: oh no! did something happen?  
GG: Well. Nothing unusual.  
GG: She began to get...maudlin, this morning, what with the upcoming shower and all.  
GG: You know how she can get.  
EB: oh.  
GG: And Dirk and Jake are out.  
GG: If they are, in reality, "getting presents for the grubs" I shall eat my hat.  
GG: But anyway, the cupcakes...?  
EB: don't worry about me, there! i'm not really in the mood for much food at all, right now!  
GG: Oh my goodness, I'm sorry! How thoughtless of me!  
EB: i have to go sorry ill se eyou later

The phone slips out of John's fingers and onto the floor. Oh wow. He feels really sick, now. His stomach lurches and he turns over onto his side, one hand over his mouth, and gropes around on the floor with the other for his phone.

EB: yihgve toc ome hoemfeelng rlly sickldfg  
EB: ';lkjsick  
AG: Just 8reathe, John.  
AG: I'll 8e there soon!!!!!!!!

John follows her advice, one hand still over his mouth, breathing in and out through his nose, eyes fixed on the television. He has no idea what's going on in this movie, anymore.

Oh shit.

Cold rushes over him like he's been doused in ice water. His stomach is hurting, bad, and he curls an arm around his middle, whimpering into his hand. Ok. Breathe. In, out. In, out...In...oh, _fuck_...

Then Vriska is bursting in the door, practically throwing down the bags she's carrying. "John!!!!!!!!" She shrieks, almost vibrating in barely-contained excitement. "Are they coming????????" John can only let out a tiny moan in response, and Vriska is there, next to him, one hand stroking his hair with surprising gentleness. "It'll be so much easier if you sit up. Trust me!"

John doesn't see how this could possibly be true but he lets her pull him slowly to his feet and help him into the kitchen. His stomach lurchs alarmingly as his ass meets the chair, and Vriska barely has time to dash to the linen closet and grab out a towel before he's starting to gag. She throws the towel down on the table in front of him, kneeling beside him once more, one hand on the back of his neck, the other massaging soothingly at his stomach. John slumps over the table, forehead against the towel, glasses smooshed against his nose, trying to breathe calmly. Trying not to flip the fuck out.

Uh oh. His stomach gives a serious lurch, but where normally the table would have been spattered with the contents of his stomach, there was nothing. He retched again, and again, and oh my god, something absurdly large is pushing its way into his mouth and...

He coughs, bile burning the back of his tongue, as the first egg drops out of his mouth onto the towel. It looks so small now that it isn't lodged in his throat. Vriska squeals and lifts it gently, moving it a short distance away from him. She resumes her position beside him, the hand on his stomach pressing in circles that are a little more insistent.

"That's it. Just relax!"

Oh fuck John's stomach is hurting, now, and the burning trail up his esophagus and out the back of his throat is making his eyes water. "Vriska," he says mournfully, his voice hoarse, and he retches again, and again, the second egg finally falling to the towel. Vriska moves it over next to the first, and John feels too tired and sick and awful to be self conscious of the tears dripping onto the insides of his glasses.

A strange shaky feeling of euphoria is washing over him now, and he doesn't protest, doesn't even move, as Vriska somehow manages to maneuver herself behind him in the chair, pulling his legs over hers and levering him into her lap. He relaxes bonelessly against her for a moment, head back against her shoulder, as she pushes his t-shirt up over the painful bulge of his stomach, rubbing firm circles, applying pressure in an upwards motion that John would have thought would hurt like hell but actually feels...really...good.

John feels his stomach tighten and he falls forward against the table once again, his breaths high and panicked. His world has shrunk down to Vriska's comforting warmth, her hands on his stomach, and the awful nausea that accompanies each egg out of his body. Vriska's taken off his glasses, and he's crying in a way he never has before, too exhausted and sore to even sob properly, tears just streaming down his cheeks. He can't even care that his nose is running. Eventually Vriska takes a corner of the towel and dries his face, and somehow this just makes him cry harder, because he's just so crazy in love with her and...

There are five eggs on the table, now, and John can feel the sixth coming up, the pressure of Vriska's hands on his stomach almost painful as it contracts, and he lets out a groan of misery as the egg drops out of his mouth. He's shaking all over, and though he can feel sweat breaking out on his forehead he's far too cold. "Almost there," Vriska says, and somehow John gets out a weak laugh before he's retching into the towel again.

Vriska barely has time to remove the seventh egg and place it with the others before John is throwing up for real, clutching the edges of the table, whatever it was he'd had for breakfast suddenly soaking into the towel. "F-f-fuck," John sobs weakly, letting Vriska pull him backwards against her, letting out a soft whine as Vriska's soothing hands run all over him.

They decide to relocate to the couch after Vriska wads up the towel and, after a moment's consideration, just tosses it across the room into the trash. She lets John rinse his mouth out at the sink, then helps him back into the living room and wraps him in several blankets. He curls up gratefully onto the cushions, the strange euphoria giving him an enormous, dopey smile. Vriska grins back, triumphantly, and disappears back into the kitchen for a few moments before emerging with the eggs on a new towel. She places them on the coffee table, and that's the last thing John remembers before there are hands pushing up under his blankets, and a warm weight settles against his stomach.

"I just brought you the hot water bottle. Go back to sleep -- you need your rest for when the eggs start to hatch!" John rolls over onto his back, warmth seeping into him, relaxing his muscles, and he lets out a moan of pure relief. Vriska sits beside him for a little while, tenderly stroking his hair, and John knows she must be thinking a lot of things with the word "pity" in them because that's exactly how he knows he must look, exhausted and hurting and pitiful. He opens his eyes, just a little, and she's there, above him, blurry and smiling.

John wakes up fully after an hour or so, and Vriska's still there, hovering over him and the eggs like a hawk with...eggs. John decides the metaphor is probably unnecessary in this case. "What about the grubshower?" John asks in a half-yawn, and Vriska starts with wide eyes.

"Shit! I forgot!"

John lets out a loud laugh and winces when that jars his stomach, and they decide to have everyone over anyway, to view the eggs, maybe even watch them hatch, if they...

Vriska squeals, wide eyes on the eggs. "It's moving! It's mooooooooving!!!!!!!!"


End file.
